My house may never be clean again.
I've mentioned my darling little snuggly-bear baby before, right? My darling little poopsy-woopsoms lovey ducky? Well, that beautiful baby is testing me to the absolute limits right now.
I adore this child with every fiber of my being, as I do all my children. He's got these twinkly brown eyes that look up at you full of mirth, and you just have to scoop him up and hug him. He's perfect in every way.
He's a hurricane.
He spends all of his time going from one end of the house to the other, destroying everything in his path. I know my other children have done similar things, but this one seems to have gotten a double-dose. While I'm cleaning up one of his messes in the kitchen, he's in the bathroom, and then we trade places. All attempts to distract him are met with wild laughter as he streams past me, toilet paper clutched in his darling little fists, an ominous gurgle coming from the toilet. The day he outgrew his playpen was one of the saddest days of my life.
This last month alone, I've had basalmic vinegar poured on the carpet, honey dribbled all over the table (and the chairs), brown sugar ground into the carpet (there will be new carpet eventually) markers of all colors on all the walls, and four more ruined library books. That's right -- more library books. I just know we're going to amass more than $400 in damages there this year alone. We're already in the early $300's.
Right now, a half bag of animal crackers lies in the hallway, crushed into the carpet. More said crackers are all over the side table. His toothbrush is on the floor in front of the TV. He wouldn't go to sleep until two and a half hours after his bedtime, all of which was spent with me putting him back down. Putting him back down. Putting him back down.
I can't unload the dishwasher because he's climbing into it. I can't load it because he pulls out the dirty dishes as soon as I put them in. (Now, if I could get him to take out the clean dishes, we'd be all set!) Every attempt at housework is scoffed at, with twinkling eyes.
Yes, I'm frustrated. I'm also totally smitten with this child and plan to spend as much time as possible kissing and squeezing him. And then scrubbing, and vacuuming, and wiping . . .